Chapter Three

Ivarstead had grown since Yosa'Min's last visit. In the span of three years the little mill town that doubled as the gatekeeper to the Throat of the World felt fuller. There was perhaps only one new house, the burned ruins across the river closest to the mountain repaired at last, but the people felt closer and there was a certain thickness in the air. Little children ran between the feet of busy lumber workers, a woman shouting on about bears from where she stood at the mill. The inn was full, a drunken man stumbling away with a pair of guards helping him along the single street town. A nord man was fishing in the river that cut along the inn and watermill, a graying woman and their daughter talking and joining with him. Dragonflies zipped past Yosa'Min, the song of birds in the trees and a lonely deer bleating in the woods.

How she'd missed spring.

Yosa'Min gave a small smile, a part of her quite pleased to see the little town growing. So much had suffered in the past few years, one crisis after another wearing down at the citizens of Skyrim. It was such a relief to the redguard to find a place so happy, free of the weariness the dragons, vampires and civil war had caused. A sense of peace nestled in her chest, hope that whatever came its way to Skyrim the people could find a way to persevere.

Then her gaze turned to the looming mountain, and that smile twisted into one of remorse. Clouds clung to the massive mountain, blotting out the setting sun. She could picture Paarthurnax up there on the peak, perched on the word wall and watching the burning sunset. As much as she'd tried to process the flurry of emotions and fears the impending reunion brought on the journey, Yosa'Min was still a mess of anxiety by the time of their arrival.

They'd spent the night in Winterhold, far too late had their arrival been for easy travel back south and across Skyrim. Instead, they'd spent the night speaking with Iona at the inn, catching up and sharing amusing stories over fine mead and food. Iona had many a fun story of her training to share, retelling how they had gone on an archeological expedition into the Nordic ruins of Saarthal and found the strange artifact, the Eye Of Magnus, that had been in the final chamber. They were still trying to decipher it's strange runes, but Iona was most interested in unlocking its secrets. Yosa'Min had encouraged her, glad to see Iona was enjoying her time at the College. It made her happy beyond words to know Iona was finding something to live for, a purpose as noble as scholarly discoveries.

When it had gotten late the lovers had stayed there at the inn, with plans of leaving come dawn just as before. Mjoll had been tender with the redguard, the thought of sleep an uncomfortable one now that she knew what awaited her in her dreams. Fortunately, Siulon had given Yosa'Min a potion that had granted her a dreamless sleep, keeping Molag Bal from visiting her in the night. Siulon however, had given a stern warning that it did not prevent him from growing closer to claiming her soul once more. It did little more than lessen the side effects, numbing the pain but not curing the disease.

Yosa'Min idly brushed the satchel on her hip, more of the potion within it. If it took long to reach this inner peace Siulon spoke of, at least she would have them to make the process all the easier. She would certainly be using one of them come nightfall, which was fast approaching. "Hey," Mjoll spoke, playing with their intertwined fingers and drawing her from her thoughts. "It'll be alright."

Yosa'Min blinked at her, and she gave an uncertain frown. "I haven't seen him in years," she countered, "what if he's angry? What if the fact that I've only come now because I'm in danger will just make him more upset?"

"He's an ancient dragon isn't he?" Mjoll said with a reassuring tease, "he has waited centuries atop that mountain, I'm sure three years were nothing to him."

She forced a smile. "But… I just…"

"You care what he thinks," Mjoll pointed out, "that's rare."

Yosa'Min sighed, stepping away from Mjoll. "Paarthurnax… He was important to me when I was dealing with the dragons. I was so lost, so afraid, and he helped me find the courage to take on Alduin, to fulfil my destiny."

"What changed?"

"I did. I… Got angry during one of his lessons. I said some things I shouldn't have, and left in a rush. I know I hurt him, even if he's got thick skin… What I said Mjoll… I wouldn't blame him if he hated me for it,"

The nord frowned, stepping after her. "What did you do my love?" She asked, lifting Yosa'Min's chin with a finger. Blue eyes stared up at her, fear and regret swimming within them. All Mjoll wanted to do was hold Yosa'Min until the pain left her, to banish the agony that filled her. Alas, she could but only help her love, not fix her.

Sighing shamefully, Yosa'Min closed her eyes. "I told him I wanted nothing to do with being a dragon, I didn't want to learn any of his… our ways. Our customs. I just wanted to be with my brother, and he was determined to teach me the Way of the Voice, as if he wanted to keep me up on that mountain until I was the next Jurgen Windcaller. When I defeated Alduin I awoke on the Throat of the World, dragons everywhere, and I couldn't even bring myself to speak to Paarthurnax… I just wanted to go home."

"Vastin was very important to you," Mjoll replied, "I'm sure he's come to accept that. You still completed your duty by defeating Alduin after all."

Yosa'Min couldn't meet Mjoll's gaze however, pulling away from her once more. "But he was right, Mjoll. I wasn't as ready as I thought I was, too arrogant, too hasty… I nearly died fighting Alduin, if I'd listened for just a little bit longer…" She shuddered at the memory, a hand ghosting some healed wound, eyes distant.

"Yosa," Mjoll said softly, taking her hands. "But you still did it. Perhaps you owe Paarthurnax an apology, yes, but you weren't completely wrong either. He'll forgive you, I'm sure of it... But he can't forgive you if you don't climb that mountain."

Several long moments passed, Yosa'Min listening to the bugs the zipped past, the laughter of the villagers and rustling of the trees. Then she looked up at the Throat of the World, and could already feel the bite of cold wind. "I'm so afraid Mjoll. If he doesn't forgive me, then I will never learn about who I really am. I'll never understand. Molag Bal will claim me for sure."

Pulling her short love into a tight embrace, Mjoll tried to squeeze the fear from her, chin resting atop Yosa'Min's head. "You don't have to go up there alone."

"Really?"

"Of course," Mjoll said swiftly, "I'll follow you into Oblivion if I have to."

Hugging her back, Yosa'Min felt a surge of confidence. "Okay… Okay. If you're there, I think I can do it." She stepped back just enough to stare up into Mjoll's golden eyes. She admired her love's beautiful face, the way green face paint covered the left side or how she'd taken to wearing her hair as of late, a bit more tamed with a braid on either side pulling around to meet in the back, golden locks tumbling free beneath them and a braid woven down in front of each ear. "You're beautiful," she added, wanting Mjoll to feel as loved and supported as the nord made her.

Blushing, Mjoll kissed her brow. "As are you my love. Now, are you ready to ascend the mountain?"

"Don't think it could wait until morn, not with a daedra trying to steal my soul," said Yosa'Min, steeling herself. "Let's climb the Seven Thousand Steps."

The pair walked hand in hand towards the bridge on the northern side of town, passing a little farm and the mill. A few guards called greetings after them, recognizing the Dragonborn, and Yosa'Min could only manage weak responses as they reached the bridge and the foot of the mountain. Yosa'Min paused for a moment, reverence almost consuming her as she looked up. The clouds wrapped around it like a stubborn child to a parent's leg, unyielding as they grew dark with night. A certain weight filled the redguard's chest, and she had to take a deep breath before she could move her legs again, Mjoll patiently waiting for her to gather herself.

Trees and an abundance of other foliage covered the bottom of the mountain, the pair ascending slowly as the steps started out not too steep, bending upwards along gentle curves. They were soon met with an emblem, a carving of dark stone reminiscent of a dragon with writings etched into its surface below what appeared to be a dragon head. Yosa'Min stared at it, remembering the first time she'd climbed the mountain, how hasty she had been to reach the peak and ignored them. She gently brushed the surface, taking in the words upon it.

"Before the birth of men, the Dragons ruled all Mundus; Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Needs; For the Voice could blot out the sky and flood the land," she said aloud, Mjoll listening with interest. "There are ten of these, all up the mountain until you reach High Hrothgar. Would you mind if we read them?"

"Of course not," Mjoll said, "I have never made this pilgrimage before, though I have visited Ivarstead… I would like to do it right if we could."

Smiling, encouraged by Mjoll, Yosa'Min started once more up the trail. It did not take long for age to show upon the path, swaths of it missing its stone steps, the ground growing sharper as they went. The comforting warmth of spring faded from the air as they progressed, reaching the second emblem. Mjoll spoke it this time, "Men were born and spread over the face of Mundus; The Dragons presided over the crawling masses; Men were weak then, and had no Voice."

Yosa'Min lingered on the words, grimacing at some thought before tugging on Mjoll's hand and they continued. The air grew brisk as they went up the steepening path, curving alongside the mountain until it flattened out, both of them grimacing a bit as their legs burned a bit but not out of breath just yet. They traveled in armor, Skyrim far too dangerous a place to dare cross it without protection, and Mjoll soon wondered if she might regret wearing heavy metal armor. Yosa'Min fared much better in her light leathers, still wearing her Thieves Guild armor due to it being, undeniably, a good set especially with so many pockets for her to use. She'd had a few modifications made to it, and Mjoll glanced at the red sash tied around her midsection. Squinting at it the nord could make out stitchings, as if Yosa'Min had repaired it herself.

Their path swept further up, Mjoll's armored feet slipping on a few iced over stones, Yosa'Min having to steady her. "Careful," teased Yosa'Min, "wouldn't want to sprain your ankle all the way up here, I don't think I could carry you back in that armor."

Smirking, Mjoll laughed. "Nay, I don't think you could with arms like those."

"Hey!" Scoffed Yosa'Min, "my arms aren't twigs! I've got muscle on them!"

"Aye, you do," replied Mjoll, winking at her as they continued along, kissing Yosa'Min playfully on the cheek. "Yet not enough to carry me down the mountain."

"Perhaps if I wasn't the same size as some children," grumbled Yosa'Min.

Mjoll chuckled tenderly, the noise making some of the building sorrow fade from Yosa'Min. "I think you're perfect as you are," she said, Yosa'Min blushing fiercely.

Steadily the world around them shifted, the ground becoming stiff with frost. Even with spring's approach, not all of the cold have been driven away, the mountain's height granting it more time basked in the snow of Skyrim. Trees soon became heavy with snow and thinned in number, rocks speckled with white and steps slick and uncertain. Mjoll nearly tripped twice more before they reached the third emblem. In front of it was a bowl filled with coins and flowers, offerings from pilgrims, Yosa'Min uncertain just who they were for.

"The fledgling spirits of Men were strong in Old Times; Unafraid to war with Dragons and their Voices; But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts," said Yosa'Min, laughing a bit at the end. "That sounds like me doesn't it, breaking hearts?"

Mjoll rolled her eyes. "I don't think it means romantically Yosa."

"They should be clearer with that then," Yosa'Min replied with a small laugh.

"I wouldn't think they'd need to."

"Mjoll, I have seen some crazy things in my adventures, and a man falling in love with a dragon would honestly be low on that list."

The laugh she earned from Mjoll made Yosa'Min smile brilliantly, the nord giving a shake of her head. "You're crazy my dear," she said with amusement, before starting along once more. The ground was hidden beneath snow, the powerful wind blasting it around them. Yosa'Min shivered, squinting through the cold that quickly limited her vision. The path suddenly vanished, Yosa'Min's heart quaking as she realized she couldn't see it through the wind, Mjoll just within arms reach. There were far too many treacherous slopes upon that mountain, the last thing Yosa'Min wanted was for them to stray from the path and fall to their deaths. "I think I see a marker!" Mjoll called, pointing to a pile of stones with a cloth flapping in the tumultuous flurry of snow distorting their sight.

Moving towards it, Yosa'Min gave a sigh of relief as the wind died back down, allowing her to see more steps though they turned downward following the curves of the mountain before rising back up again. "I do hope you were ready for an adventure," said Yosa'Min, trying to distract herself from the fact that they were growing ever closer to the mighty dragon.

"I would never turn down such a thing," replied Mjoll as they curved back down once more, Yosa'Min uncertain if she found the fact frustrating or not.

She glanced out from the Throat of the World, staring off into the southern portion of Skyrim. The forests and rivers seemed so small from up there, already having ascended to such a height that the world seemed to curve away from them, shrouded in snow and ice. They'd reached what would be the peaks of other mountains, Yosa'Min reaching out towards one in particular. She wished she could fly there, spread her wings and soar through the clouds until she perched upon its peak. The ghosts of her dreams ran down her spine, the memories of soaring through the clouds as an abomination swirling in her mind. The wind picked pack up, and Yosa'Min could see the landscape no more. Yosa'Min gave a small sigh before she dropped her arm.

Mjoll didn't say anything as they continued, watching Yosa'Min carefully as their path curved up and down over and over again, the stone steps hiding beneath snow or missing entirely from age upon them. "Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man; Together they taught Men to use the Voice; Then Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue," Yosa'Min read from the next emblem they came upon, speaking the name of the dragon was painful. The pair paused for a few minutes, dwelling upon the words and stretching their legs which ached.

"He sounds like an understanding soul," said Mjoll encouragingly, hoping to make that frown fade away. "If he was chosen by Kyne after all."

Yosa'Min blinked up at her, trying to believe her words. "I was often brash with him," she said, "he would tease me for being so impatient, but every second I was on this mountain training was a second I wasn't with Vastin. Even knowing he would be looked after by my friend Vifla, I just wanted to return to him… But I couldn't go back until Alduin was dealt with."

"Vifla?" Questioned Mjoll, arching a brow. She hadn't heard tale of her before.

"Oh… Have I never mentioned her to you?" Yosa'Min asked with a faint blush.

"I don't believe you have, no."

Yosa'Min averted her gaze as they walked, nearly tripping over a half broken step as they went. "When I was living in Falkreath I had only one friend, a bosmer named Vifla. She was in a similar situation to me, not living in the town itself, hunting to provide for her family. We met after a week of accidentally… and also not so accidentally, stealing each other's kills. She actually punched me first time we met face to face." Yosa'Min rubbed her jaw in memory, laughing bittersweet. "We were fast friends. We made a pact, that should something ever happen to the other, we would do what we could for their family. She had her parents still, as well as three siblings, and I had Vastin. So when I was captured by imperials when I accidentally crossed the border on a hunt, I knew she would take care of him. But still, that didn't stop me from wishing to return home any sooner."

"She sounds a good and loyal friend, have you visited her since you defeated Alduin?" Mjoll inquired, fumbling in the snow herself as the rocks began to rise around them, the path cutting between sheer stone with an overhang.

"No, she's vanished. The day my brother died in fact."

"Oh," softly said Mjoll, "I'm sorry to hear."

"I like to think she moved on to better things, but her family seemed to think otherwise. She could be dead for all I know." Yosa'Min turned her gaze heavenward, the darkness of the night filling the heavy clouds. "I send her family money, even if I can't bring myself to see them in person I still try to uphold that pact."

Mjoll gave her a small smile. "That's most honorable, perhaps one day she'll turn up and I'm certain she'll be most grateful you kept your word."

"I've broken far too many promises in my life… I'd like to keep a few at least." Yosa'Min wore a bitter smile, painful memories washing over her. Before she could slip too far into them however, there was a particular heavy noise and every sense within the redguard snapped together. It was a noise she had been hearing for three years, deep and powerful, a rush of strength and terror filling her. The redguard drew Auriel's Bow from her back, Mjoll instantly taking note and readied her warhammer. Backing up so that she could watch the other direction, the pair pressed against one another as Yosa'Min strug an ebony arrow.

Squinting into the darkness, as night had firmly claimed the sky and cast the snow clouded mountainside into black, Yosa'Min could just barely make out the massive shape that sped through the air. "There are many dragons who visit the Throat of the World," she said swiftly to Mjoll, "I don't know if this one is friendly or not." Her golden haired love gave a sharp nod, heart beating fast in her chest. "Get back to the overhang," ordered Yosa'Min, the pair quickly running towards the bit of cover. The dragon came around once more, banking close but Yosa'Min was unable to make out more details than that it was truly impressive in size.

Sliding under the rock ceiling and crunching discarded animal bones underfoot, the travelers awaited for it to show itself. The heavy flap of wings made them shiver with anticipation and the cold, the dragon no doubt searching for them. It passed by once more, when there was a wave of power through the air, a ripple almost and Yosa'Min could just barely hear the Thu'um.

"LAAS YAH NIR!"

"Well it knows where we are now," hissed Yosa'Min, recognizing the shout as the one to detect life even through stone and from a great distance.

Then the overhang gave a mighty groan, a crash of noise as snow and ice were displaced and the dragon landed above them. The talons upon its wings just barely reached around the stone, giving her idea of its size. Yosa'Min pointed her bow towards where she expected its scaly head to appear, Mjoll ready as she could be. Then it poked its head below, craning much like a bird and upside down. "Mal dovah!" Exclaimed the dragon, white scaled with hints of gold to his heavily spiked body, blue eyes staring at her with delight. "I did not expect to see you dii fahdon, my friend!"

Every bit of anxiety, every worried thought and uncertainty, sprung to the forefront of her mind, catching on her tongue as Yosa'Min slowly lowered the bow. She tried to speak, but nothing escaped her. "Are you Paarthurnax?" Questioned Mjoll for her, lowering her warhammer.

"Aye, that I am. Who are you goraan bron, young nord?" He replied, eyeing the golden nord carefully. Age was clear upon the dragon's face, one of the two spikes beneath his chin broken in half while several others were cut and marked. His horns were regal, sweeping back from his worn face, and bright blue eyes shined at them.

"Mjoll the Lioness, Yosa'Min's love."

The dragon jerked his head back in shock, before laughing, his voice so strong it shook the stone he was perched upon. "Is this why you have not visited me, mal dovah? You have found lokaal, love?" He eyed the frozen redguard. She shook in her boots, knuckles paling around the bow, fangs gritted with wide blue eyes. "Mal dovah, little one… are you alright?"

"Zu'u los ful krosis," uttered the woman at last, collapsing to her knees. "I'm so sorry Paarthurnax, I'm so sorry!" The dragon recoiled slightly, face contorting into a heavy frown. "The horrible, horrible things I said to you, I- I'm so sorry. Zu'u los ful krosis, lig frolaaz zey. Please!" She bowed before him, tears spattering into the snow, clutching Auriel's Bow tightly, Mjoll staring at her in shock. "Please forgive me!"

The old dragon found it difficult to climb down the overhang and fit himself beneath it, only getting his long neck and wide head within while the rest of him contorted between the rocks. He nuzzled the woman, head as long as she was tall, urging her upwards. "Mal dovah… Nii los bek, it is alright. I have forgiven you long ago."

Yosa'Min grabbed onto his snout, tears bubbling down her cheeks. "How? I was terrible…"

"You were angry, worried… the word escapes me but you were not alright. I understand why you said what you did… even if it hurt in the moment. Words strike as true as any blade," Paarthurnax replied, his breath puffing around Yosa'Min, warming the air between them. Mjoll watched with wide eyes, having never seen Yosa'Min interact with a dragon before, and even knowing she considered Paarthurnax a friend it was still quite a startling display of emotion.

"How can you forgive me after that?" Yosa'Min asked, mystified. She had hoped to find forgiveness, but for it to be so readily given rather than fought for was mind boggling. Never had she been so easily forgiven, save perhaps by her brother in the Soul Cairn. "I deserve to be hated for what I did."

Paarthurnax gave a deep sigh, and pressed his snout further against her, trying to comfort her. "I am old mal dovah, I have learned many lessons here on this most sacred mountain. Zok revak strunmah. Forgiveness was the hardest, yet I learned." He eyed her carefully, having to look at her with but only one eye. "You do not forgive yourself, frolaaz hinmaar. Faaz ahrk beyrovin naak hi. Pain and guilt consume you."

Yosa'Min gave a small nod, sniffling. "Yes."

Paarthurnax pulled back, Yosa'Min falling slightly after him at the unexpected retreat. He shuffled through the stones until he was in a more open area, standing upon the Seven Thousand Steps. "Come, we shall fly." He lowered his neck, flicking his long spiked tail to indicate they should climb onto his back.

"Are you sure?" Yosa'Min whispered, Mjoll helping her to her feet.

"I would not offer if I was not."

Yosa'Min trembled as she mounted the dragon, clutching one of the many spines that rose from his scales. Mjoll situated herself behind her love, holding onto her tightly. Both of their hearts beat frantically at what was about to happen. "Ready?" She asked Mjoll who nodded nervously. "We're ready," she informed Paarthurnax.

The ancient dragon spread his tattered wings, and with a mighty flap surged upwards from the ground. Mjoll shouted, her stomach rising to her throat and falling back down again as suddenly the world was very far below them. It took them but only moments to pierce the blanket of clouds, moisture clinging to their bodies as they sped through them, and then they were on the other side. Yosa'Min began to laugh, voice rising in tempo as they gained altitude. Mjoll was quick to join her, sheer panic and adrenaline fueled euphoria consuming the nord. They laughed until it hurt, and kept on, unable to stop.

Up there above the clouds the sky was beautiful, the air thin and crisp, a chill striking both women on the dragon's back. They stared in wonder at the twinkling stars in the expanse of dark, dancing as if they wanted to outshine the rest. The two moons felt so close that Yosa'Min found herself reaching out towards them. Mjoll looked down at the ragged blanket of grey, the clouds that hid Tamriel from view all save for the bald peak of snow laden stone that pierced the sky. The Throat of the World, a perfect sanctuary between the worlds of the sky and mortals below.

"It's so beautiful," whispered Mjoll, finding herself reaching towards the moons too, clutching Yosa'Min with one hand. Their breath puffed in the cold, but exhilaration kept their skin warm.

"There is no place better than the sky," said Paarthurnax, banking around the peak in a lazy circle. He was in no rush to land. "Stin do brudaat, free of burden."

For a few moments Yosa'Min could believe him, could let that pain building within her go. While she didn't understand it, she had been forgiven, and she could only be beyond grateful for it. Yosa'Min spread her arms, feeling the wind between her fingers as they circled the peak. Even from here she could feel the Time Wound, sense its power atop the world. It was a comfort, her mind growing light along with her heart, eyes closing in contentment.

"I wish I could stay up here," said Yosa'Min, remembering the flights she took as a hybrid abomination, slowly opening her eyes once more. Then her dreams crept upon her, and Yosa'Min joy was twisted. The stars contorted, forming constellations of monsters, Molag Bal stringing himself among the shining lights. He smiled at her, dark and sinister. Her vision blotted out until all she could see was the daedra of stars, sharp teeth of beautiful light. You are mine. Claws raked her, hot blood streaming down her face. She couldn't stop the scream that came from her, Yosa'Min lowering herself against Paarthurnax, closing her eyes and whispering to herself it couldn't be real.

It's not real!

The next thing she knew they had landed, Mjoll holding her in her arms on the snowy peak with Paarthurnax curled around her. "Fos lost tol? What was that?" Questioned Paarthurnax, concern in his ancient voice. "Why do you bleed mal dovah?"

Yosa'Min blinked around her, breath coming in panicked puffy gasps, body trembling in Mjoll's grasp. Something dark laughed in the sky, forcing herself to look up at the stars. They were as they always were, constellations no different than before, no daedric princes changing them as they so pleased. "I… I think I'm losing my soul," she admitted, looking down at the snow below. It was red. "I think I'm going to die."